environmental studies.

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environmental studies.
2007-11-28 6:26AM / 標準BLOG / 會員可以看

towards the end of my last year in school, the whole lot of us living in the fourth year room had gone through quite a bit of resourcing and researching inspirational material. it sometimes came in the form of books, movies, but more often, the aimless browsing of the world wide web. one of the things that really stuck in my mind for a while was an anime called tekkon kinkreet. we had watched the trailer on some site and i can't remember how others felt about it, but i was blown away by the painted environments.
earlier in the year, rey and i had discussed the importance and the lack of environments/backgrounds in a lot of illustration today. he went on to pursue creating interesting settings for his work, and while this trailer was a nagging reminder of how important setting can be, i shied away from it.

i had forgotten about tekkon kinkreet until just recently. a week ago, i headed over to future shop and bought myself a copy. i watched it with erika and it blew my mind. everything in the movie was amazing; animation, soundtrack.. etc.

but what hit me hardest again, was the background painting. it just would not escape me. i thought about what effect the painting had on the mood of the story, its ability to placing and contextualizing the actual physical environment it created for the characters. and then it dawned on me, that i too could, and should be creating environments that help convey the background, (mind the pun,) of the figures that appear in my work ; my work would be so much richer if i could paint environments that justified the stories i create in my paintings.

so this is my mission, for the next little while- environment. sorry for the rant, but it's truly an amazing thing that i neglected this for so long- go watch the movie. below, a satisfactory start on my road to creating rich atmospheres- i figure, it's a decent start. it's a pseudo-japanese market/sidestreet thing happening, but that's only due to the inspiration of the movie- i promise it will just get better and more diverse:

humble, humble attempt.

and also, a great post at audrey kawasaki's blog with TONS of scans from the art book.

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i was born in indonesia. ...
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i was born in indonesia.
in 1989, my parents brought me to canada.

soyez amoureuses, vous serez heureuse.
d'où venons-nous? qui sommes-nous? où allons-nous?

I stopped and turned to look behind me. The slope twisted palely down toward the town like the tracks of some gigantic insect. I looked up at the sky then, under the moonlight, and glanced at my palm. With a rush of understanding I knew this wasn’t my hand anymore. I can’t explain it. But at a glance I knew. My hand was no longer my hand, my legs no longer my legs.

Bathed in the pallid moonlight, my body, like some plaster puppet, had lost all living warmth. As if a voodoo magician had put a spell on me, blowing my transient life into this lump of clay. The spark of life had vanished. My real life had fallen asleep somewhere, and a faceless someone was stuffing it in a suitcase, about to leave.

An awful chill swept through me and I felt choked. Someone had rearranged my cells, untied the threads that held my mind together. I couldn’t think straight. All I was able to do was retreat as fast as I could to my usual place of refuge. I took a huge breath, sinking in the sea of consciousness to the very bottom. Pushing aside the heavy water I plunged down quickly and grabbed a huge rock there with both arms. The water crushed my eardrums. I squeezed my eyes tightly closed, held my breath, resisting. Once I made up my mind, it wasn’t that difficult. I grew used to it all – the water pressure, the lack of air, the freezing darkness, the signals the chaos emitted. It was something I’d mastered again and again as a child.

Time reversed itself, looped back, collapsed, reordered itself. The worlds stretched out endlessly – and yet was defined and limited. Sharp images – just the images alone—passed down dark corridors, like jellyfish, like souls adrift. But I steeled myself not to look at them. If I acknowledged them, even a little they would envelop themselves in meaning. Meaning was fixed to the temporal, and the temporal was trying to force me to rise to the surface. I shut my mind tight to it all, waiting for the procession to pass.

How long I remained that way, I don’t know. When I bobbed to the surface, opened my eyes, and took a silent breath, the music had already stopped. The enigmatic performance was finished. I listened carefully. I couldn’t hear a thing. Absolutely nothing. No music, no people’s voices, no rustle of the wind.

-excerpt, Sputnik Sweetheart, Haruki Murakami

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職業: 畫家 , 作家 , 動物訓練師
性別: 男
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